


and the river rises like a barn on fire.

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Earth-3, M/M, general fucked-uppery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6455323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the time, he is nothing like that blind-with-fury boy that Thomas took from the flames, the one who made him swear that he would avenge his parents' deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the river rises like a barn on fire.

If someone were to ask, Thomas would say he knows what he's doing. He would say he had a plan, that he hadn't just killed a boy's parents and taken him from the circus. He'd say -

"You need _all_ those?" the boy - Richard - asks. Thomas told him he needn't worry himself with his lifestyle, that he could stay home at the manor, but Richard has been -

Richard stares at him more than too much. Big, bright blue eyes that take up half his bony face, mouth open like he has a hundred things to say and some of the time, he says them. He shows Thomas the things he learned in the circus and recites the things his paltry educators taught him. Most of the time, he is nothing like that blind-with-fury boy that Thomas took from the flames, the one who made him swear that he would avenge his parents' deaths.

And. Well. How fortunate for _him_ , that.

Now, Richard holds up his bag full of equipment, rifles and knives and other sordid things, staggering with the weight of it as he throws it over his shoulder.

"I like to be prepared," Thomas tells him, and Richard tilts his head. 

"Isn't that the Boy Scout motto?" he asks. Thomas smirks. "Perhaps you've found my secret origin."

 

*

 

The first few times, he makes Richard wait in the car, or at least on the rooftop of wherever he's going. But then Richard disobeys him, and when Thomas looks up from half a dozen bodies Richard is standing there, open-mouthed and trembling and for a moment there, Thomas is sure he's lost him completely. He'll try to run, and Thomas -

"Oh," Richard says and he licks his lips, but he doesn't run. He steps closer, inspecting each body and each pool of blood in turn until he reaches Thomas. Then he touches the emblem on Thomas's chest, cranes his head to look up at him.

"Richard," Thomas says. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Richard stammers. "I'm - yes. Can we go to the car?"

Thomas nods, and he holds Richard close as they grapple down from the roof. In the car, Richard squirms in his seat, and Thomas sees the outline in his jeans, the obvious signs of _need_.

"It's normal, you know," Thomas assures him. "Especially for a teenger. It's the adrenaline."

Richard nods, grinds the heel of his hand against himself, but halfway back to Wayne Manor he says, "It's not. It's not just. Seeing that."

"No?" Thomas asks.

"No," Richard says, and when Thomas glances over it takes everything in him not to run them both off the road, because Richard has his jeans open and his dick in his hand, teeth biting into that perfect bottom lip.

Thomas says nothing, _does_ nothing as Richard jerks himself off, comes all over his hand and licks himself clean.

He doesn't do anything. Not the first time.

 

*

 

On a cloudy morning, he wakes up to Richard perched at the foot of his bed, watching him like some kind of - well, the irony is not _lost_ on Thomas.

"What is it?" Thomas asks. He doesn't usually get up before noon. He's never bothered to wonder what Richard does in the hours before he wakes up, but he thinks about it _now._ A boy his age should have friends, shouldn't he? Thomas certainly didn't, but even he knows he's not a shining example of normal behavior.

"I was thinking," Richard says. He rocks on his feet, and Thomas sits up and rubs his eyes. "Maybe you could teach me some of what you know."

Thomas blinks at him. "What I know could fill the library you're so fond of doing cartwheels through, boy."

"Silly," Richard says. He squeezes Thomas's ankle, and not for the first time Thomas wonders if he broke something so vital in the boy when he killed his parents that now he doesn't know fear at all. No one, not even Alfred, has touched Thomas without his permission in years.

"I mean your _work_ ," Richard says. "I could be your partner."

Thomas looks at him. He takes in skinny arms that nonetheless are plenty strong from years in the circus, bones that have never been broken, skin unblemished by bullet holes or knife cuts. He took Richard in for a reason, of course, but he never really knew what that reason was until now.

"We start this afternoon," Thomas says. He scoops Richard up by the waist and sets him on his feet. "But only so long as you allow me to get much more sleep than I have so far."

Richard nods, grinning idiotically, beautifully, and Thomas very nearly pulls him right back into his bed - but he can't make everything too easy for him.

 

*

 

"Get up," Thomas says. Richard is on the mats, bleeding from his mouth because Thomas doesn't pull his punches for anyone. If the boy wants to learn -

He offers Richard his hand. "I won't say it again," he says, and Richard takes his hand, pulls himself to his feet. "You're quick," Thomas tells him. "You can move like even I can't. But you'll need to move faster than that if you want to keep all your teeth."

Richard nods, wipes the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. Thomas feels his resolve waver. "You're -" he clears his throat. "You're doing well," he says, and color blooms on Richard's cheeks. "What is it?" Thomas asks, and Richard looks up at him.

"Just," Richard says. "I like when you -" he blinks, shakes his head. "Nevermind. Let's go again."

This time Richard moves even faster than before, dancing and jumping around Thomas so quickly his fists and feet only graze him. He laughs when he does a double somersault over Thomas's head and Thomas _gasps_ , but tackles him when Richard makes too much of a show of his landing.

"It's not a performance," Thomas tells him, pinning him to the ground.

"For you it isn't," Richard says, "But for _me_ , it could be." He squirms underneath Thomas, and he's hard, and it would take no effort at all for Thomas to peel his shorts off with his teeth. Richard licks his lips. "I could put on a show," he says. "I'm good at it. A distraction. And meanwhile, you're - doing what you do."

Thomas considers him. He leans back, lets go of Richard's wrists and grips his thighs instead, brings his hands up to Richard's ass and squeezes. Richard bites his lip, pushes himself further into Thomas's hands.

"I wonder," Thomas says. "If you really understand what it is I _do_."

"You're," Richard says. He whimpers when Thomas pulls his shorts down, eyes going huge and bright. "You hurt people," he says. "Sometimes worse. But sometimes - sometimes you protect people, too."

"Yes," Thomas says. "That's exactly right." Richard's cock is leaking onto his belly, but Richard keeps his hands at his side like he's waiting for permission.

"Go on," Thomas says. "You deserve it," but Richard flushes again, says, "I was - Thomas, I want _you_ to."

"Not yet," Thomas says. There's no point in pretending it won't happen, no point in pretending he's not fucking drooling for it. But part of that is the way Richard waits for him, waits for _him_ before he wraps his hand around himself.

"I think about," Richard says. "I think about it all the time. Your _hands_. All those calluses. Like when I was in your arms. When you saved me."

When Thomas killed his parents.

"Tell me what you want," Thomas says. "And - grip yourself harder, the way I would."

Richard _moans_ , and it's obscene, echoing, beautiful. He does as he's told, grips him tighter and says, "I want - everything. Your hands, your mouth, your -" his gaze drops to Thomas's shorts and he licks his lips again and again.

"Tell me," Thomas says, and Richard whines, shakes his head but says, "I wanna _taste_ you." His whole body is shaking now, his hand working faster. Thomas moves so he's next to Richard, cups his face and says, "That's it. Go on."

He comes hard, trembling and shouting, and Thomas wants him to be even louder, wants him to scream. He swipes some come from Richard's belly and tastes it, tastes _him_ and Richard pushes himself into a sitting position and looks at him, still panting.

"Did I," Richard starts. "Was that -"

"Yes," Thomas says. He lifts Richard by the hips, pulls him into his lap. He's blindingly hard and Richard can feel it, gasps into his shoulder and says, " _Oh_. Should I?" He asks, and Thomas shakes his head.

"Not now," he says. "Not yet. Just - move with me."

He rocks Richard back and forth on his lap, gripping his perfect ass, sucking marks into his shoulder blade, and Richard keeps his gaze set on him, stays quiet and watches him until he says, "I want you to kiss me."

He's hard again by the time Thomas devours his mouth, by the time Thomas tastes every piece of candy Richard ate this morning, every salty-sweet bit of him, and it doesn't take anything more than Thomas throwing his head back and coming for Richard to follow him.

"Beautiful," Thomas says, and Richard smiles, a little too brightly like always. He's not quite well, but then, neither is Thomas.

"And _sticky_ ," Richard adds, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes," Thomas says. "Let's get you cleaned up. I want you with me tonight."

_I want you with me always_ , he almost says, but it's no good scaring the boy.

 

*

 

Richard is good at staying in the shadows. It only takes one time, one night of someone seeing his face, for him to learn to use the corners of the room while Thomas works.

It's a violent night. While the boy watches, Thomas hurts the people who owe him protection money, takes down men who shouldn't be selling drugs without permission. He speaks in a low growl, and people cower and beg for him.

He isn't interested in any of that, except the way, when there are only puddles of blood on the floor, Richard steps forward from the shadows, looks at _them_ and then looks at him, eyes big and blue and -

Not scared. Not disgusted, even. Just -

Richard circles the room, inspecting each body before he stops in front of Thomas, reaches out and pulls the blade from his belt.

"Careful," Thomas warns, and Richard blinks up at him.

"Will I get one of these?" Richard asks, twirling the blade.

"When you're ready," Thomas says. There's still work to do tonight, but he crouches down, and Richard sits on his lap, wraps his arms around his shoulder.

"You know," Richard tells him. "Fence showed me how to throw knives back in the circus."

"Oh?" Thomas asks.

"Yeah," Richard says. He twists in Thomas's arms, flings the knife at an art print hanging on the wall and hits it dead center. "Pretty good aim, right?" He asks then, turning back to look at Thomas and grinning.

"Yes," Thomas says. He pushes the hair away from Richard's eyes and asks, "It wasn't all too much for you tonight? I'd understand, you know. You're young."

Richard's quiet sometimes, but never still. He worries his lip, rocks a little in Thomas's arms. Thomas can feel him through his jeans, through the suit, the hard insistent heat of him. "No," he says. "I know you won't hurt _me_. And I want - I want to help you, like you helped me."

Thomas holds back a shudder, says a silent prayer to no one at all to ask that the boy never tries to help Thomas the way Thomas helped _him_. But then, Thomas doesn't have any family left, anyhow. Richard couldn't take that from him.

"And," Richard says. "I thought, maybe…"

"What is it?" Thomas asks. They really shouldn't linger here, but -

All at once, Richard's expression darkens, becomes something close to those days just after Thomas took him from the circus. "The man who killed my parents," Richard says. "I thought maybe you could help me find him. And we could -"

Thomas kisses him. It's a distraction, and it works, because as soon as Thomas presses his lips to Richard's, Richard opens his mouth for him and starts making soft, hungry sounds, starts grabbing onto any bit of purchase that the Owlman suit allows.

He moves them, lays Richard down on the dirty, bullet-ridden floor and pushes his jeans and briefs down, and the scent of him is so strong that it's clear he's been hard since they got to this place. "You liked watching me," Thomas says, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Richard says, and he gasps when Thomas licks the precome from his dick, breathes and drinks him in. "I always like watching you work," he chokes out.

"I keep thinking I'll scare you off," Thomas says. He grips Richard with his gauntlet, and Richard cries out, arches up into him.

"No," Richard says. "You're - you're going to help me find them. The one who killed my parents."

Thomas looks him right in the eye and says, "Yes," takes him into his mouth and turns him into a shaking, sputtering mess, beautiful and lost and nothing Thomas ever plans on giving up.

He can lie for the rest of his life, if he gets the taste of Richard spilling into his mouth, the feel of him wrapping his strong, skinny legs around him and squeezing, the _pleas_ when Thomas keeps licking him long after he comes.

"What about you?" Richard asks when Thomas lets go and sets him on his feet. Richard reaches for him, but Thomas pushes him away.

"Later," Thomas says. "There's work to do."

No one has held his hand in years, but Richard curls his fingers in his as they head down to the car. He hums a song he told Thomas once was a Romani lullaby, and Thomas thinks about watching him fly through the air, thinks about the blood and tears when he dragged him away from the circus.

"When we find him," Thomas asks once they're in the car, "What will you do?"

Richard kicks his feet up on the dashboard, gives Thomas a look like he must be crazy - and probably he is. "What would _you_ do to someone who killed your parents?"

And that's a good question, isn't it?

 

*

 

"I don't know," Richard says a couple weeks later, when Thomas hands him a gun and takes him to the practice area of the nest. The gun looks huge in his hands, and Richard looks up at him, then back at the gun. "It's just," he says. "I know they work for you, and… But I never…"

"Think of it this way," Thomas says. He crouches so his chin is level with Richard's shoulder, and he covers Richard's hands with his own on the gun. "You _may_ decide they aren't your weapon of choice. That you're strong and fast enough for close combat, or maybe you prefer knives." Richard shivers, and Thomas holds back a smile.

"But," he says. "You need to learn how to use them. How they work. The sound they make when you pull the trigger. What they look like going through something."

"Something?" Richard asks.

"Or someone. Now," Thomas says. He slips the earmuffs back over Richard's ears, and together he helps Richard pull the trigger, again and again until the clip is empty. Richard hits most of his targets, but he frowns at the paper; he's learned, already, to strive for perfection. The other night he broke the right kneecaps of every scumbag they robbed, laughing all the while.

"This time," Thomas says as Richard reloads, "I want you to hit them all on your own. He squeezes Richard's sides and asks, "You can do that for me, can't you?"

Richard - doesn't so much as sigh as breathe out _hard_ , and then he says, "Yeah. I think so."

"Good," Thomas says. He steps back and says, "Go ahead."

The nest echoes with gunshots as Richard fires again and again, and when the noise stops Richard's clip is empty again and he's hit every target dead on. He takes his earmuffs off and lets them hang around his neck, then turns around and looks over at Thomas.

It's a look that -

It's a look that always seems to bring Thomas to his _knees_ , whether they're upstairs in the manor or they've just finished a fight. Thomas moves _in_ , moves in front of Richard and grabs his face with both hands, all but covering him.

"Look at you," Thomas says. "Look at what my boy can _do_ ," he says, and Richard squeezes his eyes shut for a minute and _moans_.

"What is it?" Thomas murmurs. He kisses all over Richard's face, licks between his teeth and Richard pants, "Y - yours."

Thomas pulls him up, lifts him into his arms and asks, "Did you ever have any doubt?"

Richard shakes his head, but Thomas can tell there's something else on his mind, something besides the erection pressing through his workout shorts.

"What is it?" Thomas asks, and Richard lifts the gun he's still holding until it rests against Thomas's temple.

"Did you ever," Richard says. "Has anyone ever…"

"No," Thomas says. "Plenty have tried." He takes the gun out of Richard's hand, sets it down along with the earmuffs. "Is that what this is? You're worried you'll lose me?"

"All the time," Richard says, too sincerely. He buries his head against Thomas's chest for a moment, nosing at the scars there. "Sorry," Richard says. "I know it's - dumb, or weak, or -"

"Hey," Thomas says. He sets Richard down on one of the tables. "It's not any of those things. You - I've never seen anything like you."

Richard shivers, licks his lips. "Yeah?" He asks.

"Yes," Thomas says. He tugs Richard's t-shirt off him, tosses it to the ground. "You're - perfect. Everything you do, everything you _are_ -"

Richard _whines_ and throws his head back, spurts a little precome when Thomas gets his shorts off. He spreads his legs, and Thomas grins up at him, pulls Richard into a standing position and then turns him around. He kisses down Richard's neck and shoulder blades, down Richard's spine until he reaches the perfect curve of Richard's ass.

"Thomas?" Richard asks, and Thomas shushes him, spreads Richard's cheeks and gives his hole a long, wet lick.

" _Oh_ ," Richard says, and Thomas feels him tense, then relax. "That - that feels -" he chokes on the rest when Thomas slides his tongue _in_ , holds him open and tastes him, feels the heat of him. "God," Richard says, and Thomas squeezes his ass, sucks at him and then says, "This is what I always want. To be inside you. Would you like that, Richard?"

"Yes," Richard whispers, and when he isn't loud enough, Thomas grazes his ass with his teeth and Richard shouts, " _Yes_."

"Good," Thomas says. He rubs all up and down Richard's legs, his thighs, back to his ass. "Do you think you could take it? Take me filling you up?" He sucks again, fucks his tongue into Richard until he yelps and bangs his fist on the table.

"Yes," Richard says. "Anything, I. Do it _now_ ," he says, and Thomas chuckles.

"Not yet," he says.

"Why _not_?"

"Don't get greedy," Thomas says. He smacks Richard lightly on the ass, and Richard makes a sound like he's dying, but ecstatic about the whole thing. "It'll be soon. But for now, I want you to come like this. My tongue in your ass, nothing touching your dick."

"Yes," Richard says. "But I want," he adds, pushing back against Thomas, "I want to touch _you_."

"You can," Thomas says. "After. What do you want to do?"

Richard groans, like the question is too _much_. He's gripping the sides of the table now, as if to keep from disobeying orders and touching himself. "Let me suck you," he says. "Please, I'll - be good. I've - been practicing."

Thomas sucks _hard_ , replaces his tongue with his thumb for a moment and asks, "Have you?"

"Yes," Richard says, and his whole body blushes for the admission, not what they're _doing_ when he says, "I stole - something. I think you might be - bigger, though."

Thomas almost laughs, but it would drown out the sweet sound Richard makes when Thomas's thumb slips in further. "Have you used it to fuck yourself?" Thomas asks, and Richard shakes his head.

"Just - my mouth," he says. "I wanted you to be the first one who ever…"

It's almost sweet, this boy telling him these things, makes him want to say to hell with waiting, bend him back over the table until it falls apart under them. But then Richard says, "Please, Thomas, can you - your mouth, again?" And Thomas has shot men who begged for less in the face before, but he can't deny Richard a single thing.

He holds him back open, shoves his tongue in again and again until Richard starts thrusting back against him, trying to get him deeper, until Richard shudders and comes, collapsing on the table in front of him.

Thomas pulls back slow, stands up and turns Richard around to face him. Richard's whole body is trembling, and Thomas holds him in his arms, lifts him up until Richard can rest his head on his shoulder. "There now," Thomas says. "You're all right," he says, and Richard giggles hysterically.

"More than," he says. "I - oh," he says, and Thomas asks, "What is it?"

"Just," Richard says. "I got you all messy."

"That's all right," Thomas says. He kisses Richard's cheek, swipes his hand over Richard's belly and brings his sticky fingers up to Richard's mouth. Richard sucks hungrily, moans around him when he slides his fingers in and out.

"So good," Thomas says. "Will you be this good when I feed you my cock?" He asks, and Richard's eyes roll back and he _begs_ with the way his nails dig into Thomas's arms, with the way he sucks _harder_.

"That's right," Thomas says. "Let go for me now," he says, and Richard releases his fingers reluctantly, slides out of Thomas's arms and down to the floor. He stares as Thomas pushes his shorts down, drops to his knees without having to be told.

"Easy now," Thomas says, and Richard nods, but no words come when he opens his mouth. He moves forward, holds Thomas's dick in both hands and _whimpers_.

"Ssh," Thomas says. He pets Richard's hair, asks, "Is it too much for you?"

"No," Richard croaks. He licks his lips, says, "It's - you're - can I?"

Thomas grins at him, knows it must look deranged - knows Richard must be used to that, by now. "Anything you want."

Richard licks his lips again, then leans all the way forward and licks Thomas from base to head, takes the head of his dick in his mouth and sucks _hard_. "Yes," Thomas says, "that's good." Richard moans, takes him in further until he pulls back sputtering a little.

"Sorry," he says. "Sorry, I - I can take more."

"Ssh," Thomas says. He touches Richard's cheek, the line of his throat, and Richard looks up at him with such adoration that Thomas thinks, a little, about tossing him to the ground. "You're doing fine. Slow. Relax."

Richard nods and tries again, takes him in and sucks _hard_ , gives him the kind of suction that makes Thomas grunt for the feel of it. "Yes," Thomas says. "Feel so good around me. Can you take a little more? I bet you can."

Richard moans in agreement and swallows more of him, and then he wraps his fist around the base of Thomas's dick and starts to move. It's fast, and sloppy, and Richard drools everywhere, and Thomas has never felt better in his life. It gets even better when Richard reaches for him, guides both of Thomas's hands to his hair and _pleads_ with his eyes, and Thomas groans and grips Richard's hair hard, thrusts into him until he can't tell their sounds apart.

He pushes Richard back when he's about to come, and Richard doesn't hesitate, just stays right there for the splash of it over his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. He shuts his eyes and cries out as he comes again untouched.

All at once it's silent, nothing but the sound of both of them panting, the faint buzz of the computers. Thomas can barely stand, so he gets down on the floor in front of Richard, brings him in close and licks the come from his face, licks until long after Richard's clean and Richard giggles and says, "That _tickles_."

"Mm," Thomas says. He pushes Richard back enough to look at him.

"Was," Richard says. "Was that okay? I -"

Thomas cuts him off with a thumb over Richard's bottom lip. "That was perfect," he says. "I - _you're_ perfect," he adds, and Richard blushes for him, blushes so _pretty_ Thomas thinks about taking him upstairs and staying in bed the rest of the night. But -

"Let's get cleaned up," Thomas says. "I have something to show you."

He gets Richard off again in the showers, and he likes the way his voice echoes across the tiles, the way his wet hands cling to Thomas's shoulders like a lifeline, and maybe Thomas should tell him he shouldn't be _anyone's_ savior - but he's not a good enough man for that.

They dry off, and Thomas leads Richard to where he keeps his spare suits. "I had this made for you," he tells him.

Richard is quiet for a minute, inspecting every painstaking detail of the suit - the grey lines of the armor, the bright reds of the cape, the boots, the belt. He traces the emblem over the chest and then looks up at Thomas, questioning.

"I thought," Thomas tells him. "If you're to be my secret weapon, we could call you - Talon."

Richard smiles at him, and it shouldn't be such a beautiful, warm smile for something so ugly - but Thomas doesn't care. "Go on," he says. "Try it on."

 

*

 

Talon and Owlman are a double act like Gotham has never seen before. Together, they rake in more money and leave more bodies than Thomas was ever able to by himself. Richard loves every moment of it, laughing as he breaks kneecaps, flipping over pools of blood and jumping from rooftop to rooftop without a net.

Thomas saw him once, what seems a million years ago, wearing bright colors and swinging on a trapeze. Then, he told himself he'd do anything to have that boy by his side.

Now, he knows he'd do anything to keep him there.

During the day they sleep, curled up together like birds on a roost, and at night their nostrils fill with the scent of blood and they're - happy.


End file.
